


This Life is More Than Just a Read-Through

by AvaCelt



Series: 2020 Bollywood Prompt Fills [17]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Female Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Bollywood, Pre-Hueco Mundo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: A moment between a hothead and a crybaby, or alternatively, that time Hiyori caught Orihime crying alone and decided to give her a piece of her mind. [Pre-Hueco Mundo, self-indulgent mom!Hiyori and baby!Hime friendship fic, one-sided IchiHime, implied Urahara/Hiyori]
Series: 2020 Bollywood Prompt Fills [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969198
Kudos: 5





	This Life is More Than Just a Read-Through

**Author's Note:**

> Title from RHCP's _Can't Stop._

The last thing Hiyori wanted was to stumble upon a crying teenager when all she wanted was to enjoy her beer in peace. The moon was high and shone brightly in the cloudless sky. It was the perfect night to go hollow hunting, drinking with friends, or on a date, but Hiyori wasn't interested in any of the options except for the drinking part, and a drink was what she needed – alone.

The girl wiped the snot off her nose with the back of her hand and only managed to make herself cry harder. Any other moment, and Hiyori would have made fun of the girl for being dirty and dimwitted, but Hiyori didn't do well with crying. People either fought back, cussed her out, or tuned her out whenever she decided to turn her rage towards them, but rarely did anyone cry. Tears weren't reserved for the likes of her. It was understandable. Not many people took a four feet tall, foul-mouthed warehouse worker seriously, especially not when she wore the same outfit everyday, rain or shine. If only they knew how many pairs of the same tracksuit and sandals she kept in her closet. She was probably the manufacturers' favorite customer.

The girl wheezed, wiped more snot and tears from her face with the other hand this time, and continued crying. Disgusted with the amount of snot and tears this lone girl was producing, Hiyori finally opted to do something before the girl cried herself into dehydration and forced her to carry the girl back to the warehouse. Yes – Hiyori was going to do something nice for once, but _only_ because she didn't want to have to deal with a bunch of screeching teenagers and Lisa and Love's disappointed gazes for having left the girl alone.

She was going to do it so she could avoid future trouble, _not_ because she actually cared. Hiyori hated _everyone –_ including Shinigami and humans. She hated them, and she hated the girl crying alone on the roof of an abandoned building when the night was so beautiful and young.

“At least bring some tissues next time, Princess!” Hiyori snapped, startling the girl.

Orihime Inoue whipped her head around to face Hiyori's not-so-imposing figure. She was ready to spit out another jibe when she saw the watery eyes balloon in size, which should have been impossible considering how big they already were, but somehow, they got larger and the girl just sobbed harder.

“Goddammit, fine! Here, take these!” She threw a wad of napkins at the girl's face, and they went splat across her nose. Orihime instantly used the paper napkins to blow her nose while Hiyori lamented the fact that now she had nothing to wipe her mouth with after she finished chugging her drink.

While the girl wiped her face, Hiyori went ahead and took a seat next to her. She dropped her plastic bag, slipped off her sword and shoes, and settled onto the tin roof of the building overlooking Karakura Town's industrial district. There was nothing but concrete and tin for miles, and that which didn't glisten underneath the moonlight seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows. A smile tugged at Hiyori's lips. It was her kind of place, her kind of night.

“Th-thank you,” the girl hiccuped after several minutes.

“Don't worry about it,” Hiyori groused, making the decision _not_ to look at the girl when she spoke to her. Instead, she kept her eyes on the landscape in front of her. When several minutes had passed once again, she cracked open her first beer and took a swig.

“Thank you for sitting with me,” the girl said meekly after her cries had finally seemed to quiet down. Her words were still wobbly with emotion, with tears no doubt still leaking from her eyes, but Hiyori had no intention of confirming her assumption.

“Whatever,” she grunted in response. She took another drink of her beer and felt the pleasant buzz begin to spread through her core.

“And for training us earlier,” the girl added hastily. “I... thank you. It helped a lot.”

“Uh huh.” Hiyori knew damn well that the girl was still too weak to stand on her own two feet, much less commandeer the power she'd been gifted.

But tonight wasn't the night to shred the girl into little pieces. Hiyori didn't like the sound of crying, and she didn't want to be the reason why Shinji's boy came out swinging because Hiyori had yelled at the girl until she devolved into another crying fit. Hiyori craved violence, but she didn't relish in stupidity. It wasn't a mess worth starting.

And so, she kept her eyes on the sky and her opinions to herself.

“I wish I could get stronger,” the girl wheezed as Hiyori braced herself. “I'm trying... but it's not working. Why isn't it working, Hiyori-san?”

_Why are you so weak, Hiyori-san?_

Hiyori swallowed the memory with the last of the beer. She cracked open another can and took a long, deep drink. When her chest didn't feel like boulders were crushing her ribs, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and chuckled dryly. “How's it supposed to work when you can't even look yerself in the mirror?”

_Hikifune Taicho did everything for you, didn't she? You never had to lift a finger when she was around. How can you consider yourself a soldier of the court when you can barely lift your sword for anything other than a petty squabble?_

“You can train yer legs to run as much as you want, Princess, but it means nothing if they ain't takin' you somewhere. Figure out why the hell yer training, and maybe _then_ the training'll come handy.”

“B-but I'm doing it for my friends!” The girl squeaked indignantly.

Hiyori grinned. “Oh? Is that all? Sorry, Princess, but everyone wants to save their friends. Nobody wants to be left behind.”

_You let Urahara do as he pleased, despite knowing that he'd invited a criminal into your home. You willingly chose to be his tool. Who do you have to blame for that, Hiyori-san?_

“But that can't be the only reason you get up in the morning. The world won't allow it.”

“But it's not wrong to want to help others!” The girl griped, the wobbliness in her voice eroding with every word. “Our bonds are worth waking up for, so why can't they be enough?”

Hiyori snapped her head to where the girl was seated and saw that her big brown eyes were filled with determination and that the tear streaks had long-since dried. The contrast was both eerie and hilarious. One moment, she'd looked like a cartoon character ready to burst into sobs, and the next moment, she'd transformed into a video game princess who seemed ready to take on the world.

Maybe the girl was worth more than Hiyori gave her credit for – but only maybe.

“You ever live knowing you were someone's bitch, Princess?” She jeered with a maniacal glint in her eyes. The girl gaped at her words, and that only fueled the hollow sleeping inside her chest. “I did, and for almost a decade at that! That's barely the blink of eye in Soul Society, but tell me, Princess – could humans stand being a lapdog for ten years? Could you wake up every morning knowing that you were working for a bastard, and that you allowed _monsters_ inside yer house? That you let it all just go on and on and on until _another_ monster found you out and ripped you to shreds for being a coward?”

“I-I,” the girl gaped like a fish out of water, tears pooling in her eyes once again. Hiyori felt both pleased and hateful, hateful of the girl sitting beside her, hateful of herself for being nothing but a dog that scared away all the nice people and never the rotten ones.

“I did,” Hiyori continued smoothly. “I was that bastard's dog, and I _liked_ it. I had a purpose, Princess. I thought I was contributing to the betterment of my world, but all I did was help create a path for a monster – and I was OK with it, Princess, right up until I got cut up like a piece of meat.”

Tears spilled from the girl's eyes again but she didn't make a sound. Hiyori was glad for it. She didn't know if she could handle sobs, not when she'd gone back on her words almost immediately and ripped into a teenager barely holding it together. Hiyori didn't know if she could handle anything, really.

“So it's not just enough to wake up in the morning thinking yer gonna save yer friends,” Hiyori enunciated, as if speaking to a child. “You gotta get something in return too, Princess. Yer only a person at the end of the day. Yer like us. Whether it's being someone's tool, or being someone's shield – you gotta want it for _you._ It can't be about everyone else all the time. If you can't get nothin' out of it, then no amount of training's gonna save yer life. Figure out why you wanna walk into battle with the Strawberry, Princess, and maybe then you can do something besides cry when all yer friends are probably out havin' a good time.”

“I love him,” the girl blurted out.

Hiyori blinked, taken aback. “Huh?”

“Kurosaki-kun,” the girl said with a blush that pretty much transformed her into a tomato.

“Typical,” Hiyori deadpanned, but that didn't stop the smile from stretching her lips. “But acceptable. Do it for love,” Hiyori drawled, turning back to the moon and sky, “or whatever the hell it is you kids fight for these days.”

“But that can't be it,” the girl groused, more at herself than at Hiyori. “I have to figure out what else is out there. I... I might not be the strongest, but I'll try my best!”

“Uh huh,” Hiyori grunted, taking another sip of her beer as the hollow in her chest drowned in alcohol and self-pity.

“I want to be their shield, Hiyori-san, even if they don't like it. Even when they tell me I can't... I will! Because it's _my_ choice, and I'll do it if I have to!”

“Do what, die?” Hiyori broke out into peals of laughter and almost snorted up the beer in her mouth through her nose.

“I'm not afraid!” The girl fumed.

_Are you afraid to die, Hiyori-san?_

“People will use people in every which way, little girl,” Hiyori drawled while screaming internally at the hollow to stamp out the memories of Aizen, the bastard, a boy she'd known growing up, a man who'd become a monster, a man who'd turned _her_ into a monster. She wished she'd swiped some cigarettes along with the beer.

“The only power you have is _who_ or _what_ you choose to dedicate your life to,” Hiyori managed to grind out. “Don't join the army, and don't become a cop. Yer not made for taking orders from old men and beautiful bastards. If it's the Strawberry you wanna die for, then go ahead. You wanna die for yer friends? Be my guest. There's no shame in giving up one's autonomy to save another, but just remember, yer resolve will have consequences. It'll make you stronger, but it'll also turn you into their enemy. To willingly sacrifice yerself for someone, for some cause? There's no greater crime, Princess. It may feel honorable, but it ain't. It's the curse of humanity. No one wants to hurt the ones they love, but we have no problem hurting ourselves if it means protecting the ones we love, not realizing how much _us_ getting hurt can hurt the people we love. No one wins, Princess. At least if you're weak, then your loved ones will rush to protect you, but if _you_ choose to become strong? Then you're a warrior, and warriors don't die pretty deaths.”

Hiyori knew, of course. She'd died violently for nothing, and returned as a monster with a mask. No one had saved her when she'd been cut to bits, and no one cared about her except those that had been killed and cursed much like herself. It was a household of convenience, creatures ousted from their comfortable homes, and cast down to Earth to suffer a thousand years for daring to get in some monster's way. There had been no honor in her death, just like there was no honor in the life she lived right now, an endless stream of night and day, with just a singular purpose that would end soon enough.

“It's not about that!” the girl yelled.

Hiyori jumped, dropping her beer. She turned to the girl and was ready to bonk her on the skull, but stopped short when she realized that the girl was now standing. Hiyori looked up to see a hulking giant with long, auburn hair swaying with the wind, fists clenched, and face set with determination. Hiyori squinted and thought maybe, just _maybe_ there was a hint of rage in those big brown eyes.

Hiyori couldn't help but break into a smile. The girl was _angry._

“I'm not fighting to die, I'm fighting to live! I want my friends to live; I want Kurosaki-kun to live, and I want all of us to be happy! I want us to go into the future with hope in our hearts! Becoming a warrior doesn't mean dying for the one you love, Hiyori-san, _it means fighting to live for the ones you love!”_

The girl burst into tears again, but remained standing. She was big, bigger than Hiyori would ever be, and she was strong. Hiyori had known deep down, of course, but what else was she supposed to do? She had no beauty, no strength to match what was in front of her, so what advice could she offer a little girl who wanted to be the hero instead of the damsel? To be the warrior instead of the princess?

Nothing – Hiyori could offer her nothing.

“I won't get stronger thinking I'll die, Hiyori-san,” she wept, balled fists shaking with agony. “I'll get stronger for my life – for all our lives! I won't let them take _anything_ else from us, I promise! I'm fighting for _my_ right to happiness, for my friends' right to happiness! I won't let them terrorize us just because they feel like it! I'll fight for us! A shield can be a sword! A warrior can come home alive! _I'll prove it, just you wait!”_

And Hiyori almost believed her.

* * *

The war still happened, the little girl still left with the monsters to save her precious friends, and Hiyori still died. This time, she was sliced in half by yet another child old enough to be her kid, and so she fell, and she fell, and she kept falling until she hit the ground in pieces, and died again, as worthless as the day she'd arrived in Soul Society, as worthless as Aizen had deemed her, nothing but a useless tool like she'd been for Kisuke, nothing, absolutely nothing.

But she didn't die, and she didn't fade. She awoke and she stared at the pale blue sky as a piece of the world shattered and a little girl jumped out of the void in blood-soaked clothes and disheveled hair, her critters forming a triangle of light that rained fire. She watched as the girl fought with all her might, destroying the very fabric of matter, rejecting the very essence of _time._ She watched as the girl swung her attention towards the injured and the dead after laying waste to her enemies, and then marveled as she jumped down from the heavens and set forth a blanket of light that seemed to soak up all of Hiyori's pain and sadness.

Hiyori didn't die that day, bifurcated and laid to waste. Instead, she blinked up at the sky with her body whole, and her sword next to her, and a girl with auburn hair and godlike power fighting with all her might, _living_ with all her might _,_ instead of dying a hostage and a coward at the hands of the monsters who'd forced her hand.

And this time, Hiyori believed her.

* * *


End file.
